It's finally white outside.
I certainly remember the consecutive yearly blizzards while nearing the end of my high school career, and our being out of class for around three weeks in both 1977 and 1978.
It’s hard to believe, but I was a Floyd Central varsity basketball player at the time (it’s even harder to believe that I could dunk, though these days such antics are restricted to doughnuts), and the school cancellations had almost no effect on the sports routine. Few if any practices were missed as a junior in 1977, and it seems that at least some of the games were played, although others were postponed.
My recollection of 1978 is that ultimately, the issue was less about snowfall than a coal shortage and high energy prices in the midst of Jimmy Carter’s famous “malaise.” Consequently, we continued to practice in daylight right after school at Georgetown Elementary, where there were still windows, so that the electricity could be spared at FCHS. The games we played on our home court were also right after school, so the gym wouldn’t have to be heated at night.
But … am I on the right track here? Something about these memories doesn’t jibe.
What puzzles me in retrospect is why we didn’t get back to school sooner. Apart from the not unexpected phenomenon of the basketball program’s tail wagging the dog (how times have changed at FCHS!), there are memories of getting out, driving around, socializing, grocery shopping.
More recently, there was the massive snow dump of 1994, when we were somehow able to keep the pub open after about ten inches and had a great business day, in the process unfortunately missing the single best Rich O’s photo opportunity ever when my pal Kevin and his brothers-in-law drove their snowmobiles over and parked right outside the door atop the mound created by the industrious “Mr. Plow.” But the '94 snow was gone within days.
Given the panic-stricken standards of today, the current snowfall constitutes the apocalypse. I believe there was a time not so long ago when the White Terror earned its sobriquet. On the other hand, quite a few beers have passed in the interim.
If I start telling stories about walking miles through snowdrifts, you can give “last call.”
Still bummed I missed seeing the photo op.
ReplyDeleteHoliday practices were always a bear, snow or not. Sadists don't believe in holidays and coaches always set out to prove how tough *they* are by not allowing their teams to go soft during breaks. Unwarranted suicides or ten-in-twos, anyone?
The year after I quit playing competitively, I showed up for an open gym after a night of too much drink. I threw up a dozen chocolate chip cookies on the girls' gym floor at SC and went straight back to the game on the defensive end. That's the day the older guys started liking me.
My fondest memory of the late 70s snows is spending the better part of a day building a snowman. A couple of teenagers in the neighborhood started knocking it down and my older but five foot nothing sister literally beat them up. I've tried to pay, but I still owe her for that.
Started working for then PSI on January 17,1977 in Jeffersonville. Iwas living in Bedford,IN at the time and thought this sucks to have to work in this kind of conditions. We camped out at the Days Inn on Eastern Blvd and walked back and forth to Resch's Tavern. That winter is when the Ohio River froze over for weeks.
ReplyDeleteWhile most of you are setting here reading this, I'm keeping your lights, hopefully. Have a drink for me.
Sorry for the bad typing, I just woke up.
ReplyDeleteSnow tunnel's. Lived in Oldham county at the time and recall burrowing like a mole in snowdrifts. There was also the sense that everyone was looking out for each other. Neighbors helping neighbors. Getting groceries for each other. Pulling cars out of ditches.
ReplyDeleteAnd that d#mn Chuck Mangione song that WHAS played everytime they showed school closings.
I think they still play that song, Ted. I just heard it the other day and had a flashback.
ReplyDeleteI remember our neighbor Mr. Deark walking about 2 miles pulling a wagon to get to the only grocery store in Edwardsville, the Key Market. He came around to all us neighbors and said he'd pick up 1 item per family.
I remember cabin fever, working jigsaw puzzles (which we're going to be doing today, too), doodle posters, watching birds at the feeder with my dad.
I remember how terrible I-64 was through the cut through the rocks. Since the sun didn't hit there, it was a sheet of black ice for weeks.
I remember spinning out and wrecking my '66 Chevy II SuperSport on the exit ramp from 265 to 64 West on my way to New Albany from classes at IUS.
I was -4 years old. I got nothin'.
ReplyDelete:-)
I got my first driver's license in January of 1978. I had a 1972 Chevy Malibu, but was very bummed because my parents wouldn't let me drive it until the snow was gone. It seemed to stay on the ground, and the roads, for more than a month. Makes me wonder--Have the methods for snow removal improved dramatically over the years?
ReplyDeleteI really enjoyed the 1994 winter storm. I had plenty of ales in the house, and a couple of novels that I had been waiting to read. My children were young then, and we had fun building snowmen and then playing games in the house.
WOW...there has to be a photo out there somewhere of Roger in his "Kurt Rambis" shorty shorts from the basketball uniforms in the 70's. THAT would be a great photo, I'm sure...
ReplyDeleteI've only lived in Floyd County for three years - last night was my first encounter with the snowy hill up Paoli Pike in my rear wheel drive car. Final score: Paoli Pike - 1, Pete - 0. The car spent the night in a parking lot on State Street after quickly realizing that I didn't want to mess with the hill a second time. I ended up calling a neighbor with a Jeep to come get me - and he was happy to do it - proving that in Floyd County, people still do look after each other.
As former Louisvillian, it still amazes me how the slightest precipitation causes such total chaos over there...
I've got some old 1970s FCHS yearbooks here, just full of photos waiting to be scanned . . . .
ReplyDeleteLest we forget, my senior year began with me getting a white man's afro in deference to my beloved ABA.
ReplyDeleteThere won't be many action shots. I looked far better than I played.